Playing In Puddles Poem by John W. McEwers

I vividly recall a day in July
When I was a child, no more than knee high.
And I was naked.
I was splashing in a puddle.

There was a little girl from around the block
She wasn't wearing much, no more than two socks.
She jumped in.
She splashed in my puddle.

I think she had rolling curls on her head
When the weather wasn't such to make mush out of bread.
She laughed at water.
I shared my puddle.

Now when it rains I look on the streets
Seeing puddles inviting for children's feets.
I'm not playing.
I'm too old for puddles.

I go to my fridge and pull out meats and cheese
Roll them together and go get my keys.
I walk outside.
Step in a puddle.

Start my car and shove food in my face
Drive to a spot that reminds of that place.
There's no children.
Only still puddles.

I'm left without food and nothing to drink
Wearing soggy shoes that are covered in stink.
And my kids are gone too.
And I'm single.